Trinity Blood
by insertappropropriatenamehere
Summary: John Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter, kicked out of the house for his “Dark” tendencies, finds his way to the vampires’ Empire of the Night, from where no one has ever returned. To his surprise, he finds out why- and the reason is one no one eve
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: IMPORTANT! This includes ideas heavily influenced by Trinity Blood and is therefore AU. No prior knowledge of Trinity Blood is needed. Notes will be at the bottom.

Summary: John Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter, kicked out of the house for his "Dark" tendencies, finds his way to the vampires' Empire of the Night, from where no one has ever returned. To his surprise, he finds out why- and the reason is one no one ever expected. And who is the priest who took him in and what is his connection with the Empire's mysterious Empress of the Night?

Disclaimer: I own neither Trinity Blood nor Harry Potter, nor do I own the idea, although this is only the second ever HPxTB crossover-thingie I've ever heard of.

Chapter 1: Letters and Prejudices

Fourteen-year-old Hari Nightlord, once known as Harry Potter, stared in shock at the letter in his hands, a letter that had been delayed for three years. "I'm a wizard?"

"That's amazing!" the silver-haired orphanage caretaker known only as 'Abel' smiled. "Aren't you lucky?"

Hari looked up at his friend and surrogate parent. "You don't mind? Even if wizards are the enemy of Methuselah?" Methuselah- _long lived._ It was the term vampires used to refer to themselves.

"When you leave the Empire, I hope you will realize that not all people are like," Abel scolded, short silver hair chopped just below chin length framing both sides of his youthful face. Blue eyes as deep and opaque as the anti-light barrier that surrounded Byzantium, the capital city and seat of the empire, gazed into Hari's own shocked emerald ones. "What did I tell you about stereotyping?"

"They're not true," Hari repeated obediently. "But wasn't the Count of-"

"If the Empress gives her permission, you may be the one to bring the Methuselah and the wizards to peace and coexistence not only in the Empire," Abel said seriously. "Not everywhere is as peaceful as it is here."

"But Abel-"

The silver-haired man waved away Hari's protests and stood, stretching to his full height of well over six feet. "Their hatred of us is mostly caused by ignorance and damage wrought by renegades. Please, you are the only one who can do this."

Harry was about to protest further, then quieted at the look in his guardian's eyes. "This is big, isn't it?"

"It involves two hidden worlds at odds with each other," Abel agreed. "Over a million lives depend on how you act."

Hari winced. "I never wanted a burden," he protested, although he already knew that he would go.

"I'll go with you," Abel suggested brightly. "Now, what else does that letter say?"

Augusta Vradica, Empress of the Empire of the Night and guiding Mother to the Methuselah nobles, nodded regally at the silver-haired man who knelt before her and the Congress of Nobles. The nobles, all Methuselah, knew better than to question his relationship with their Mother.

"Rise, my child," the Empress's voice was cool. "We will discuss this matter further. Now, the Congress is dismissed for today. We will meet, as always, two months from now. Now, go and perform your duties to your Empire!"

As one, the nobles rose and left, a low, speculative murmur sweeping through their ranks. As soon as the last of them had left, Abel stood. Count Baybars, the head of the Janissaries, or the Empress's personal guards, fingered the hilt of his enormous sword before he subsided.

"Please retrieve the members of my secret council, the Duchess of Moldova, and the Duchess of Kiev," Augusta ordered her guards. Nobles in the Empire of the Night ruled over their brethren in the areas they were assigned to, much like a shadow government; Methuselah counted wealth and power in the number of people they ruled and the power they held, not in the land. The Empress turned to Abel as her guards left on their errands with professional detachment and efficiency. "I haven't seen you in decades, brother!"

"You're still the little sister I remember, though, Seth," Abel smiled. "You haven't changed, not in two millennia."

"But the world has," Seth said sadly, lifting the veil that otherwise covered her face even to the Methuselah she was Mother to. Green eyes set in a child's face framed by short-cropped black hair looked up. Unlike her brother, Seth Nightlord was an old woman trapped in the body of a prepubescent girl. "And we are the last Crusniks to walk this earth."

"There will be no more," Abel repeated his oath. "Not until Lilith walks the earth again."

"She was our mother, wasn't she?" Seth sighed. "I still can't forgive Cain for what he did all those centuries ago. I'm glad he's gone for good now."

"It was in the past," Abel replied, slightly perturbed by the remembrances of his insane identical twin. "And Lilith lies in state in this very palace until the day we can resurrect her. So what of our problem?"

"You like Hari, don't you? You talk about him the same way you used to talk about Esther. He'll die too, just like Esther. Not even the Methuselah live as long as we already have."

"They're forever being killed off for the least reasons," Abel agreed. "If we could neutralize the wizards- ah, your secret council is here. Why, might I ask, is it called the 'secret' council if everyone knows of it?"

Seth paused. "It sounds good? It used to be a secret, you know, until that time I had to fake my death. I don't think Esther or Ion ever forgave me for it."

"Mirka is Ion's grandmother," Abel pointed out. "If he's lived with her, he's probably prepared for just about everything. Our Duchess of Moldova has a very… unique sense of humor."

"Ah, my secret council is here," Seth announced. The foremost figure, who resembled a well-developed girl in her early teens with long blonde hair, waved. Mirka Fortuna, the Duchess of Moldova and the head of the Imperial Secret Council, had acted as her Empress's confidante and body double more than once in her long lifetime, now well over seven hundred years.

"May I excuse myself?" Abel asked formally. "I have my duties to attend to."

"I will send my grandson to you with the results of the meeting, then, as usual," Mirka agreed. "You've been dodging these meetings for the past century now, I don't know why we still do this protocol. Baybars!"

"Yes!"

"I can find my own way out!" Abel protested, waving his arms around erratically. He paused. "In any case, I was planning to tour the human worlds again. The Empire should keep up to date with happenings in the Wizarding world."

"You wish it to coincide with your ward's schooling?" the Countess of Damascus, the Council's official representative, asked. She snapped her fan open, then closed again. Abel gazed at the Asian vampire.

"Yes."

"Is it not customary to choose a Methuselah for a companion during these expeditions? We rarely have contact with the magical mortals for prolonged periods, so the more of us who are exposed, the better."

"Human society has been changing rapidly for the past century and a half, and it shows signs of even more rapid change, almost by mere year now. I can leave the orphanage for a few years; my assistants can handle everything until then. I believe now would be a very good time to catch up with wizarding technology. Besides, I can pass for human, and my ward _is_ human. What better team can you find?" At that, Mirka smiled, patting the sides of her skirt just under her hips, where everyone present knew she carried a pair of concealed Browning Hi-Power semiautomatic handguns.

"And I assume you told him some crap about bringing the Wizarding world and the Empire together?" Astharoshe Asran, the Duchess of Kiev, pointed out.

"At the very least, since he would hold some clout in the Wizarding world, he could stop the hunting of our people," Abel said. "And I can act like an idiot, and whoever will represent the Empire can act with the grace and authority they're supposed to have."

Astharoshe snorted. "I just came back from a trip five years ago, and believe me, the nonmagical mortals' world has only become worse. What makes you think the Wizarding one will be different?"

"Possibly because they know we exist?" Abel mused. "I heard there's quite a few renegades out there. Even if we don't bring them into the fold, we must account for them in some way."

"I don't wish to purge all our kin outside the Empire," the Empress declared. Abel quickly made his excuses and left the enormous audience chamber just as the members of the council began to argue amongst themselves over the viability of explaining Methuselah culture to the 'turned' vampires.

They would come to an agreement, eventually. Until then, he had to make his own preparations. The Empire wasn't the only thing at stake here, and Seth could take care of Lilith's legacy better than he could.

No, what he specialized in were covert operations.

Lucius Malfoy barely refrained from staring in awe at the current head of the vampire covens of Europe, the man believed to be the most powerful vampire currently in existence. Instead, he prudently kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of his feet and bowed. The long, dark audience hall was devoid of life other than the two of them; his death would go unmarked and unmourned. For a moment, the pureblood felt a hint of panic.

"Mein Herr Contra Mundi," he said respectfully. After all, the vampires weren't his allies just yet. "I am Lucius Malfoy, the envoy of the great Dark Lord Voldemort."

"Do you seek a flight from death, then, with your master?" a warm voice murmured, deeper and richer than he expected. Malfoy took the risk of looking up; the vampire lord was garbed entirely in white. Flowing blond hair, a beautiful face, and a beatific smile combined to create a visage that was more angelic than dangerous. Malfoy knew better, though; looks were deceptive, especially among vampires.

"I seek an alliance," he replied formally, wondering what the other meant.

"I can offer so much more than that." Malfoy was sure that the vampire was smiling.

"What is the price?" Surely it was too large, and they could get down to business. After the Dark Lord's campaign the vampires would have to be eliminated, but they would make promises for now, and even go through the motions of honoring those promises.

"I want you to find someone."

Surprised, Malfoy jerked up. "What?" That was not what he had been expecting. He carefully dug his hand into his robes for his wand in case the vampires took offense.

"You'll probably cross paths with him someday," the vampire lord smiled. "I want him alive and aware. Can you do that? I'd be willing to lend you the manpower to subdue him. And leave whatever companions he has alive and aware, as well. He has hidden himself from our sensors, but I believe that you can find him using Wizarding techniques."

"Who might this man be?" There might still be a way to salvage his deal. The Dark Lord would not welcome an extra search, but the help of the vampires was necessary.

The vampire rose and crooked a finger, beckoning. "Come."

Feeling trepidation, Malfoy rose and followed the white-clothed back- a white shirt with a high collar and a floor-length cloak, both trimmed in red, he noticed- down a hall to an enormous room empty but for a painting hidden in the shadows of the opposite wall. Malfoy noticed that, for some reason, this room had enormous ceiling-to-floor bay windows concealed by drapes. Vampire residences usually did not have structures to let in light; they burned like oil-soaked tinder when touched by the sun.

At the snap of a finger, the candles lit. Malfoy frowned; vampires could not perform magic, wandless or otherwise. Who was this being? "This is he."

Staring at the picture, the wizard gasped. A dark-skinned figure with hair the color of fresh blood and, oddly enough, blue eyes sat enthroned, a motherly expression on her face. Standing behind her was the vampire lord, and to the woman's right was a girl with short black hair and eyes as green as his. However, to the left stood a man that could have been the lord's equal but for hair that was silver and eyes that were the same icy blue as the seated woman's. He held her hand, but his expression was as cold and impersonal as hers was not.

"This is our one and only family portrait," the vampire lord said. "It was drawn after Lilith- the woman's- death, of course. She was our mother a long, long time ago. The one I want you to find is the person on the left."

"Your brother?"

Malfoy's confusion must have shone through because the vampire chuckled. "My brother and I have been estranged for a very long time. Nonetheless, he is my family and I wish to be reunited with him."

"I must speak of this with my superior," Malfoy murmured. Vampires usually killed off their family; for this one to want his back, there must be a reason. That reason was probably detrimental to their cause.

"Of course." The vampire's expression never changed. "If that is what is necessary." A shiver ran down Malfoy's spine as he realized that the vampire lord had probably engineered their meeting for exactly this result and wondered what else the being had up his sleeve. This being was more cunning than he or his Lord had thought. "In the meantime, I'll loan you the use of several of my retainers as a measure of goodwill."

"Mein Herr, there is no need-" Malfoy began before a snicker cut him off. He looked for the speaker and saw two figures hidden in the shadows.

"Hey, the wizard finally got formal."

"Dietrich, please refrain from making jokes at our guests' expense. It is so crude."

"Isaak!" this time the voice was a whine. One of the figures stepped out of the shadows; he was the prettiest boy Malfoy had ever seen, with a cold, aristocratic cast to his features and lush, layered brown hair. The other held equally haughty looks, but in a more sardonically amused way. Black hair trailed down, the ends lost somewhere in the shadows. Both wore tailored black uniforms of some muggle design or other.

"Mein Herr," the one Malfoy guessed was 'Isaak' knelt. The pretty boy Dietrich bowed briefly. Needless to say, at this point Malfoy was feeling a bit lacking in the physical aesthetics department.

"Follow the wizard," the vampire lord said. "Don't forget to report back to me."

Malfoy shifted, feeling uncomfortably like an extra cog. "We will return when the Dark Lord summons." A sudden pain lanced through his Dark Mark.

"What good timing," the vampire lord smirked. Malfoy clutched his wand as he Apparated himself and two others away from the oddest situation of his life.

Dumbledore stared at the Minister of Magic. And stared. Then stared some more.

"I can only suppose that's good news," the Minister finally said uncomfortably. "We will do as you plan."

Dumbledore tapped his letter on the table. "Very few vampires have even heard of this Empire. Certainly the muggles have not. Think of the possibilities if we could only create contact." He leaned closer. "Think of what it could do to your career."

"It's still a big risk," the Minister grumbled. "The vampires are dangerous. I suppose I'll have to send representatives to keep up appearances."

"Alright, then," Dumbledore said brightly. "The Wizarding World will have their Savior back alive and unharmed, we will have found the last stronghold of the vampires, and everyone will be happy."

"Unless they're the vampires, of course," the Minister of Magic said, and both men joined in several amused chuckles.

"So you'll approve of my candidate for Defense Against the Dark Arts despite his background?" Dumbledore queried.

"Of course!" Fudge chirped. "I'll be seeing you later, my good comrade!"

Once the man- no, idiot, Dumbledore corrected himself- had left, he turned to more serious matters. Such as bringing Harry Potter to his side.

Next chapter: Why Harry isn't living at the Dursleys', who the new DADA teacher is, an introduction into a new world, and more!

Please R&R.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Hehehe, this chapter's weird. Also, the original idea came from Millie M. Banshee. The background's very similar to hers, but my story will diverge.

Summary: Why Harry isn't living at the Dursleys', who the new DADA teacher is, an introduction into a new world, and more!

Disclaimer: The person who owns Trinity Blood is dead. The person who wrote Harry Potter is filthy rich. I am neither.

XxXxX

Chapter 2: Just a Matter of Nomenclature

XxXxX

Dumbledore hummed brightly as he read the acceptance letter again. It was time to make plans. A knock on his door alerted him to his new Defense Against the Dark Arts candidate. Perhaps he wouldn't need to ask a favor from his old friend Moody again.

"Come in," he called.

"Hello," the candidate said. Dumbledore sized him up; the man wore plain red and white robes under a white cloak. Blond hair gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck; pale skin, green eyes, and a calm smile completed the picture. Had he not been rather gloriously sitting directly in the lone patch of sunlight let in by the window, Dumbledore would have had doubts that the radiant being in front of him was not a vampire. "I am Cain, Cain Nightlord. No connection to the infamous Night Lords of old, fortunately."

"I wouldn't dream of one," Dumbledore smiled, twinkling. His Legilimency ran against hard, tight barriers; the man was shielded almost inordinately well. "All know that the Night Lords left this world centuries ago."

"A millennium," Cain muttered softly. "Coinciding with the fall of the Empire of the Night and its Empress Lilith."

"You're very well versed in history," Dumbledore noted. "Now, about your experience in teaching and Defense…."

XxXxX

Hari gaped as he walked down the alleyway, clutching his new wand. Behind him, Abel carried his bags, an indulging but vacant smile adorning his face. Hari knew it to be fake but doubted anyone else could tell, and the man's eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective lenses he had only purchased that morning in muggle London.

Hari gasped as he passed some sort of pet shop with creatures he had never seen in the Empire before. He winced as he caught a glimpse of his guardian; an Abel with glasses and a goofy smile was slightly disturbing.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, I need some book titled "Grammarye"- am I pronouncing it correctly?" Hari looked at his list again.

"Yes," Abel said absentmindedly as he eyed a couple of pink puffballs. Seth would like them…. "And practice your English. You still have an accent."

"You do too," Hari muttered.

"Ah, but I have the excuse of being foreign," Abel replied smoothly. "Are you regretting your choice already?"

"Just because I'm impetuous doesn't mean I'm an idiot. Or flighty," Hari shot back. "And as much as I love the Methuselah Empire, I'm still my own person."

"You should call it the Empire of the Night," Abel commented, pointing to a store named Flourish and Blott's. "That is its true name, you know. Besides, most of the people of the Empire aren't even Methuselah."

"Everyone calls it the Methuselah Empire," Hari grumbled, following him into the bookstore. "Even the Methuselah themselves aren't nocturnal, and they _are_ the elite class, you know; they cull their ranks from the best and brightest. _I_ want to be one when I mature."

"But aren't you enjoying the sun?"

"It's cloudy today. Besides, back in Byzantium, at least the sky was _blue_."

"Twilight," Abel agreed sarcastically. "All day. It must be quite a big change to walk into a world where the weather is unpredictable. Ah, the _Grammarye_. It's quite the small book. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be quite old-fashioned."

Hari muttered something unsavory and unrepeatable about immortals and change under his breath. "There is no reason to- what?"

"Ah, apparently there is a celebrity," Abel said cheerfully. His lenses flashed in the half-light of the bookstore. "Let's go see who it is."

Hari followed his guardian outside, feeling slightly uneasy. The crowd had gathered around a small coterie of teenagers around his age. There was a plump boy with dreadlocks, a tall redhead with an idiotic air about him, and a small mousy boy toting a camera. However, striding at the spot of honor at the front of a group was a boy who could have passed for Hari's twin, right down to the oddly-shaped scar on his forehead. Hari touched his, glad that he had learned somewhat of Methuselah glamour to hide it- not that Methuselah glamour was as great as human myths made it out to be. Much of it was exactly that; glamour- makeup and physical concealment. The rest was attitude.

Abel put his hand on Hari's shoulder to steer him away from a confrontation with the glorified gaing, but at the last second the mousy boy noticed Hari.

"Blimey, look!" he pointed directly at the pair. Abel cursed under his breath and Hari winced; his guardian had an incredibly colorful vocabulary when he wanted to use it. The crowd erupted into whispers.

At that moment, a man with hazel eyes and windswept black hair and a woman with brilliant green eyes and reddish hair walked up. They froze, as did Hari. Abel simply pushed his glasses up and smiled.

"Yes?"

"Who are you?" the man croaked out.

"It is generally considered polite form for the questioner to give his identity first," Abel said. "But since you asked so politely, I'm Hari's guardian."

"Harry," the woman whispered. "Hari. James-"

"No, Lily," James muttered. "Dumbledore couldn't have lied. Harry's dead."

"We have no idea who you're talking about," Abel said smoothly, physically pushing Hari away. The soon-to-be wizard-in-training seemed to have frozen in shock. Honestly, Abel believed if parents were stupid or callous enough to lose a child, they didn't deserve to care for it. "I'm his legal guardian. His parents and brother are dead. They died in an accident years ago. I am sure of it. This is just an incredible coincidence. Now, if you're done, we still have shopping to do."

"Yes, well," James stammered. "I'm sorry." Abel steered Hari into the nearest shop, which happened to be the apothecary, where he promptly gagged from the stench. Abel couldn't blame him; for him, with his enhanced sense of smell, the smell was several thousand times worse.

"At least we can get the potions ingredients," he suggested brightly as Hari threw him a dirty look for pulling him into what was arguably the smelliest shop in the entire alley.

Nonetheless, the two walked out thirty minutes later, smelling of unnamable things but with their bags of random animal and plant parts and the shopping done for the day. The crowd had long moved on, most of them unwilling to enter such a smelly place and the rest driven off by the proprietor, who preferred his shop cater only to buyers.

Of course, neither he nor Hari noticed the unicorn horn that had mysteriously vanished from its place. After all, the fact that when combined with certain materials and when whittled down, the horns made blades sharp and strong enough to slice through bone without chipping and nullified all types of magic they came in contact with, was a secret well-kept by the Empress's Janissaries. They guarded that knowledge with their lives.

Incidentally, the nullification properties included magics cast on a body the knife was buried in, no matter whether the source was a spell, potion, or other. As Methuselah couldn't perform magic on their own, they were forced to rely on tools such as these.

"Earth to Abel!" Harry's annoyed voice jerked Abel out of his train of thought. He blinked; they had reached the Leaky Cauldron again. They made their way through the pub, where Abel effectively disguised their packages into resembling ones carried around by ordinary muggles, and they made their way through London back to the hotel they had rented for the week.

"We should live closer to Diagon Alley," Hari grumbled. "Especially with all these dangerous cars about."

"The Empire doesn't rely on cars," Abel agreed. "I can see why muggles would treasure them, however. They can be useful at times."

"The more I see of the outside world, the more I'm convinced the Empire is the place closest to Paradise."

"Even Adam and Eve were kicked out of Eden," Abel said piously, using the room's copy of the Bible as a place mat for Hari's new cauldron, where it promptly acquired several new stains.

"You're Eve then," Hari stated automatically.

"I'm applying for a job at Hogwarts," Abel said seriously. "That way I'll have some clout on the minds of impressionable youngsters on their way into the world's second most powerful secret society."

"The first being the Empire?" Hari began wrapping his potions ingredients into plastic baggies and putting them in a corner of his trunk. Abel sorted his books and clothes, then arranged them so that the heavy tomes would _not_ puncture any part of the plastic material. After that went in the other school supplies and a few personal effects; no photographs, as nothing of Byzantium was supposed to exit the Empire, but there were drawings of glass cathedrals, incredible scenery, and complex waterworks unrivaled throughout the world; if hard-pressed to explain them, Hari would simply tell them he'd made the pictures up. After all, Hari had yet to see anything close to rivaling Byzantium in the outside world.

XxXxX

Staring nervously outside, Hari couldn't help but worry; Abel had gone off earlier that day, making his own way to Hogwarts, and he was alone with a heavy trunk and no way to defend himself. What fool school would give its students sticks with the ability to kill, torture, and maim people and then forbid them from bringing weapons? In the Empire, even the least little child knew how to defend him- or herself. Not that they needed it, of course. The crime rate was nonexistent, and laws zealously upheld. Such was the power of the Empress.

Hari barely dodged out of the way of a group of fangirls chasing what he called the "Big Four". Come to think of it, he didn't even know their names. Not that it mattered; he wouldn't be in contact with them very much.

Sadly, his hopes were quashed a few moments later with the advent of an obnoxious voice.

"Hey, this compartment's mostly empty! There's only one guy, and it's that one!"

"You mean the one who didn't get his letter for three years?" another boy piped up.

"Yeah! I'm sure he wouldn't mind sitting in the presence of the great John Potter!" the obnoxious voice bragged.

Hari winced as the door slammed open and quickly shut his copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. The book was violent, biased, and simple, but it was still his primary source on his new school.

"Hello, my name is John Potter," the boy who appeared to be his twin said. "You've heard of me, of course."

"Not at all," Hari admitted easily, enjoying the surprised look on the boy's faces and the affronted looks on his cronies'. "I've been somewhere very remote for much of my life. Please feel free to find another compartment where there are sycophants to cater to your every need."

"You-" the redhead snarled as he was dragged bodily out by the other four. Hari returned to reading. Apparent twin or no, he was on a mission given to him by his Empress. Failure was not an option.

He returned to reading, but was interrupted a short while later by a nervous-looking witch clutching a much-battered copy of the same book.

"Hi, I'm Hermione," she introduced herself. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"As long as you're quiet, not at all," Hari replied, not looking up. Hmm, a seven-story castle….

"Thanks. Besides, everyone's talking about how you one-upped Potter and his gang. The rest of the Gryffindors hate you, but the Hufflepuffs think you're God in disguise."

"I have no idea about any of his gang," Hari prompted. "I have lived in a very remote place for most of my life."

Fortunately, Hermione was more than willing to rant about the group, and it was obvious that she and they held ill will against each other. As far as Hari could understand, the explanation came out to be something like "John Potter's a git with an overinflated ego and no talent who's used to handing everything out on a platter. Ronald Weasley's that redhead, he's just some sort of idiot megalomaniac toady. Neville Longbottom's okay, but he's a pushover, and he's too stupid to realize the others are using him. Colin Creevy's just some sort of suck-up and PR machine for Potter."

"Uh, thanks for the explanation," he said awkwardly. It was nice to know about one's enemies, but not from such a biased source. He wished Abel were here to help him muddle through this.

Luckily, the girl seemed uninclined to continue the conversation, so Hari dedicated himself to finishing his history of Hogwarts before the train stopped.

XxXxX

Dumbledore hummed as he purveyed the packet. His students would be surprised to find that Binns had retired, although no one could truly say where the ghost was- perhaps it had been one of the few lucky enough to pass on to the next generation.

Nonetheless, he had the perfect candidate. He smiled as he thought of the two together; while his Defense teacher had been literally golden, radiant and charming, this one was as cold as ice and just as beautiful as the other. In fact, they could pass as siblings, if not each other.

Pasting a broad smile on his face, he looked at his new History of Magic teacher. "You're hired," he said. "It's short notice, but I suppose I'm lucky. Our previous teacher left suddenly."

"That is fine," Abel said. He didn't mention that he had caused Binns to leave; all one had to do to banish ghosts was to erase the ties that bound them to this plane. If the wizards could no longer remember even something so simple as that, then he certainly wouldn't help them to. "Can I start this year?"

"Yes, of course!" Dumbledore said. He looked into the man's eyes, but the man's mind was as vapid and empty as if it didn't exist. Was this simplemindedness, the Imperius Curse, or a new form of Occlumency? Whichever it was, it didn't bode well for Hogwarts- or himself.

"Well," he began again, rising and offering his hand. "I suppose we should go downstairs, then. The students should be arriving soon."

"Yes," Abel said, removing his glasses.

XxXxX

Hari blinked in surprise; the castle was incredible, yes, but so was Byzantium's skyline. And Byzantium boasted much a much more beautiful, ornate, and cared-for infrastructure. This place had nothing on the City of Eternal Twilight- Hari rather thought that this school's best aspect was its expansive grounds.

"Isn't it awesome?" one girl beside him gasped in awe; he snorted. Gothic architecture was beautiful, yes, but it only lent this castle an air of sad neglect.

"It could be better," he muttered out loud, ignoring odd glances from the people around him.

A stern-looking woman frowned, looking the student body over, and then beckoned him over. It was obviously him because the people who had been standing around him moved back as soon as her hand pointed in his direction. "Come with me."

Hari followed her into the small antechamber, where she pointed to a moldy hat sitting on a rickety stool; he sneezed at the smell of fungus.

"You want me to put that on?" he surmised incredulously. Sure, he had read about the Hat, but he had hoped that it would be something more- dignified.

This old rag did not suit his needs. Hari was seriously beginning to repent his decision to leave the Empire. _'Why did I leave?- Oh, yeah, I wanted to see the Outside, that's what. And Father Abel asked me. I am such an idiot.'_

Nonetheless, he jammed the hat on his head, blocked his thoughts in case it was something that decided to invade his private thoughts, and winced when he realized it was exactly that.

A few minutes later, after examining some superficial memories- the only one of relevance to the Empire one where he rescued a fellow orphan from the crabbed apple tree in the backyard of the orphanage- the hat screamed "GRYFFINDOR!"

Great. He was in the house of the egotistical idiots.

XxXxX

Somehow, Abel and Cain had ended up seated next to each other, to the chagrin of much of the staff. The two barely maintained an air of polite civility; Dumbledore twinkled more than ever behind his half-moon glasses.

"It's all his fault," Cain muttered under his breath.

"It's all your fault," Abel complained, equally quiet. He stabbed a piece of what had once been a cow… probably.

"Ich hasse sie," Cain said blandly, twirling his steak knife around his fingers in a bright, deadly steel pattern. _I hate you. _

"Judex ergo cum sedebit, quidquid latet apparebit; nil iinultum remanebit," Abel mocked back piously. _When the Judge his seat attaineth, and each hidden dead arraigneth, nothing unavenged remaineth._ (AN: From the Wikipedia translation of the Dies Irae, or Roman Catholic funerary dirge.) 

"Ihr tod war nicht meine störung." _Her death was not my fault. _

"Perhaps," Abel said, rising. "Please excuse me, Headmaster."

Down at the foot of the Gryffindor table, one Hari Nightlord narrowed his eyes as his guardian left, eyeing the one who had caused the man's retreat.

"It can't be," he whispered.

"Can't be what?" Hermione asked.

"Meet me in the library tomorrow and I'll explain," he muttered back hurriedly, applying himself to his Peppermint Humbugs. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her, but it certainly wasn't going to be the truth. Or the whole truth, at least. Those from the Outside did not need to know about the Methuselah Empire.

XxXxX

Sitting in his appropriated house in Little Hangleton, the man now known as Lord Voldemort smiled.

"Soon." Beside him, Nagini hissed a soft agreement.

Neither were aware of the conversation a certain green-eyed boy was having with a similar large snake.

Up in his dorms, safely ensconced behind spelled drapes and under heavy layers of bedding, one Hari Nightlord was holding a conversation with his own snake.

"Danke, Schlange," he whispered. "Gute nacht."

Schlange flicked a purple-black tongue out at him and went in search of prey. Hari settled down to sleep, aware that his every movement would be protected by one of the deadliest snakes in history- the black mamba.

XxXxX

AN: In case you didn't understand, the glasses shielded Abel's mind. Blame the refractive properties of glass (which is a liquid, by the way) and dark magic. The wizards lost knowledge on magic, and the Methuselah can't use normal magic. And Abel? We'll see.

Also, for those of you who don't know, Google the black mamba. For those who are too lazy or simply don't feel like it, the black mamba, contrary to popular belief, is not black. It's white or whitish. It is also one of the deadliest snakes in Africa (and the rest of the world). It's also very, very large.

One last thing; the people in the Middle East don't speak German. They speak Arabic or Farsi. But there's a reason why Hari's speaking in German right now.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Questions, comments, concerns, insults or accusations? Review! It solves the problem of everything!

Summary: See what Hogwarts has become, how Dumbledore has become an Evil Overlord of the Light, and what Hari is going to do about it all. And what on Earth is Abel doing?

Disclaimer: No tengo el Trinity Blood o el Harry Potter. Si tuviera, estaría rico. Si no estoy rico, no tengo el Trinity Blood o el Harry Potter. Comprendes esto?

Disclaimer translation: I don't own TB or HP. If I did, I'd be rich. Since I'm not rich, I don't own them. Understand this?

XxXxX

Chapter 3: Contra Mundi

XxXxX

Seth opened the letter from her brother eagerly, handing out blood pops to the rest of the Secret Imperial Council.

"That man… isn't dead?"

"The Great Traitor?"

"Abel is currently watching over him," Seth said, unwrapping her own blood pop and sticking it in her mouth. "Hmmm, not bad."

"Your older brother, which persona is he using this time?" Astharoshe asked casually.

"The harmless, klutzy idiot, I believe. He always did like that one."

"He has odd taste," Mirka said, biting her blood pop in half and chewing appreciatively. "The wizards got better at this."

"He's a teacher?" another member asked, taking the letter- which was a report- and scanning it. "It seems the Wizarding World is much more prejudicial than we thought. Perhaps we should pull out?"

"Things change," Seth said dismissively. "Especially with humans, no matter how tradition-bound they are."

"I doubt the wizards will change their ways anytime soon," Asta snarled. "They keep killing our kind, and we don't retaliate! I say show them the power of the Empire of the Night!"

"They kill rogues," Seth corrected. "And renegades. No true Methuselah would be caught _dead_ engaging in something so foolish. Let's wait before coming to a decision." She folded the paper up and stuffed it inside one of the pockets cleverly hidden within her ornate costume.

"But-" someone spoke up timidly.

"Meeting dismissed!"

XxXxX

John glared at the boy who resembled him so much. Said boy glared back at him, unpacking- were those _first year_ supplies? Oh, he'd never let the other one forget this!

Already planning his revenge, he concentrated on cultivating his fanclub, showing them the scar on his arm where he'd fought bravely against Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew alike.

What they didn't know would only make him look better in their eyes.

Thus, it was very late when he went to bed. Oddly enough, since there was an extra bed in their room, apparently that weirdo Harry or whatever had been moved with people his age.

John snorted. He enjoyed his elevated status in society; he would do anything to maintain it.

"Why are you staring at my bed," a voice from behind him deadpanned, and John jumped. "I am very sure we are not about to make sweet, sweet love on it, no matter what you say or do."

"Er, what?" That wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Mentally, Hari slammed his head into a wall. Many times. He'd definitely spent too much time around Mirka. "Never mind. I'm leaving for the night. See you in the morning."

"You can't leave, it's past curfew!" John complained. "You'll lose us some house points, and even before classes start!"

"I'll just tell them I'm you, then. They'd let you off with a scolding. I mean, we could pass for twins, except for the different hair styles and musculatures."

"What about my reputation?!" John asked, outraged.

"Do I care? It's all for the greater good, anyways. Oh, and why do you hold such a grudge against Granger? She's a nice girl."

"She should have been in Ravenclaw!" John boomed. Steps echoed in the stairwell and they lapsed into an awkward silence as the other four members of fourth year Gryffindor ran up the stairs.

"So, is it always this cloudy?" Hari asked blandly.

"Yes, yes it is."

Neville was the only one who ignored the continued tension in the air.

XxXxX

Hari wished he could just sit in class with people his own age. But noooo- he had missed three years' worth of education and was stuck with the first years. _First years._

He sat in Charms, his first class, listening to the first-years around him gossip about their two favorite subjects; himself, and something called the Triwizard Tournament that the Headmaster had mentioned earlier. He was eminently uninterested- _fame and glory my ass!-_ and concentrated on drawing sketches of the abnormally short little wizard in charge of the class. Abel had promised him that as soon as this year was over, he'd apprentice Hari to whichever Imperial mage he wanted, in whatever subject he wanted.

And it certainly wasn't going to be Charms.

He spotted a flash of green-gray in the ceiling; what was Schlange doing up here? He was dragged from his thoughts by the teacher, Professor Flipwit- _Flitwick_, his mind corrected itself- urged them to all try the charm he had been expounding on the last half hour.

"Don't forget; swish, and flick! Don't be like-" Yada, yada, yada.

Hari pulled out his wand- made and given at one of the few Imperial safehouse-bases in London- and swish-flicked. He didn't bother to speak aloud.

Slowly, the feather rose into the air. Flitwick clapped his hands gleefully. "As to be expected of young Mister…"

"Sahl," Hari supplied helpfully.

"Ah, any relation to our new Professor Sahl?" Flitwick seemed more delighted than usual.

"I believe he is my father," Hari said blandly, resisting the urge to punch the idiot professor and leave. "You know, the one Professor Nightlord looks like."

Flitwick nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Let's see, twenty points to Gryffindor to Mister Sahl for doing a spectacular job on his first try! The rest of you, keep working on it for homework."

And just like that, Hari's first class ended.

Hermione met him outside the classroom, clutching several books in a deathly embrace. "So, how was class?"

Hari finished staring at his wand- _unadorned thirteen inches of elder and phoenix feather_- before replying. "It was easier than I thought. Why are you meeting me here?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Well-"

"It was Potter, wasn't it?"

"Well-"

"Ignore him. Someday, reality will crash upon him and he will realize the mistake of his existence. Let's go eat lunch."

Hermione trailed after him, bobbing her head nervously. "Are you related to Professor Sahl? I mean, you two share last names. And is Professor Sahl related to Professor Nightlord?"

"Professor Sahl is my father," Hari sighed. "I have absolutely no idea about Professor Nightlord."

Seriously. Wizarding societies couldn't even be trusted with their own members to not turn on each other. But with the death of the God-Empress Lilith a millennium ago…

"I think they have roast beef today," he said, speeding up. "Let's go eat before that idiot Potter comes along, and I'll introduce you to my father. Again." After all, the more hooks they had in the Wizarding society, the easier their mission would be.

XxXxX

Abel Nightlord was not in a good mood. Apparently, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were the product of a long, long internal feud within the school. And his sister- or her proxy- would be visiting the British Wizarding World- why did the wizards love capitalizing their names so?- within the month, leaving very little time for him to prepare things.

This mission was a farce. If it hadn't been for Cain, he wouldn't have needed to act in such a ridiculously close-minded society. The Potter and Malfoy brats arguing in front of him weren't making things easier, either. "Fifty points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin… I can hear you~!"

There was a scandalized silence from his class. Potter and Malfoy gaped at him in shock, obviously wondering whether or not he was an idiot.

"Now, about the Empire of the Night. Who knows anything about it?"

The Gryffindor Hari had been talking to the day before, at the Welcoming Feast, raised her hand.

"You, Miss Beautiful."

The girl in question blushed. " I'm Hermione Granger, professor. I'm sorry, but isn't the Vampire Empire just a myth?"

Abel sighed dramatically, flinging one arm out and staggering back as if wounded. "Alas, you doubt me! However, since the Empress of the Methuselah Empire coming soon for a visit to watch the Triwizard Tournament, according to certain sources-" he held up a copy of the Daily Prophet, opened to page sixteen "-I hope the Empire is more than a myth. Next!"

"I fail to see how this is important," Malfoy said arrogantly. "It's not as if they count. They're only vampires, after all."

_Fool._

"Wrong! Fifteen points from Slytherin for speaking out of turn. Anyone else want to try? Make up the points Malfoy just lost? Fifteen points to the next person who speaks up!" He smirked goofily at them, ignoring their shock.

Potter raised his hand. "Supposedly a bunch of vampires got uppity and decided to call themselves an empire somewhere else."

"Close. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your prejudice. Fifteen points to Gryffindor for daring to speak up. That makes… zero! Oh, and if you had said that to someone from the Empire, you'd probably be punched in the face- or worse. So, who wants to go next?"

The class was, for once, utterly silent and unmoving, united in their shock and disbelief at their admittedly weird teacher. Abel took the silence as invitation to keep talking.

"Now, since apparently none of you have any idea of what the Methuselah Empire really is, I want you all to find and read a copy of Joseph Stadt's _Travels With a Vampire_, particularly the chapters on his time in the Middle East, alright? I believe the library has several copies, so good luck to the first ones there! Oh, and anyone who doesn't read the book by next Tuesday will be severely punished for his or her laziness. You are now all… wait for it… wait for it… dismissed!"

There was a tiny pause before the entire class raced out to the library to obtain copies of the book, more likely to keep the members of the other House from reading it than from an actual interest in the book itself.

All but one of them didn't seem to notice that they were being let out fifteen minutes early.

"What do you want, Miss Granger?" Abel asked. "If this is a question about the Empire's existence, please go read a copy of _Travels_ first. After all, it might just answer your questions!" He stuck a blood pop in his mouth, savoring the coppery tang.

"Is there anywhere else I can get a book?" Hermione asked, deliberately avoiding the sight of her professor eating candy like a little kid.

Abel winked as he pulled out a copy of the book in question. "Congratulations! You win! Fifty points to Slytherin!"

"Sir, I'm in Gryffindor. And isn't this a library copy?"

"I knew that. Well, fifty points to Gryffindor too."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "You checked out all the copies!"

"Ah, well, I'm sure they'll all figure it out eventually. You're dismissed, Granger. Go molest a house elf or something."

"I don't molest house elves!"

"I thought that was what SPEW was for?"

"No!"

"Oh, my apologies then. Have fun at whatever it is you do. And now, time to prepare for my next class!"

Hermione Granger swiftly came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with her professor's head.

XxXxX

Dumbledore locked up his study and turned to a secret compartment. "I want the Book of Shadows," he said sadly. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. The Book of Shadows held most of the information on the Crusniks, taken as it was directly from Lilith's twisted palace at the time of her death almost two hundred years before the first Crusade to cleanse the world of her brethren was launched.

Blood had flowed to gain this book, unique of all its kind, blood that still stained the cover and occasionally flecked some of the pages in a startling crimson, still bright after all these years.

"Merlin," he whispered, flipping through pages filled with jumbled archaic symbols. The pictures leapt out of the pages, engraved and unmoving. In all of them, the symbol of the Crusnik was embedded. "Even the vampires have lost all knowledge of this language. This book is impossible to decipher."

He looked at his pensieve, where two miniature figures rotated in solitary glory. The two new teachers. Other, smaller figues, vampires he had managed to meet in his life time, flickered in and out of the liquid mist of his disembodied thoughts.

He didn't realize that the book slammed shut before he registered the noise. It would not open for him, not when its master was in this castle.

One of them was a Crusnik, the last of an ancient race, powerful in magic, that had died out before the rise of mankind. The other was likely a diversion. The history books he had read had all been wrong; they had to have been. There had only been four Crusnik; Lilith was dead of a certainty, her daughter gone missing for a millennium.

That left the brothers, a pair of twins created almost as one, who had last been seen dying as they fought to reach their queen. They were always described as opposites, shiny mirrors of each other; kind and harsh, warm and cool, passive and aggressive.

Neither of the two really fit the bill there. Abel could be the brighter one, the happy 'golden twin', but he held more secrets than Voldemort himself-

Voldemort. The Dark Lord had contracted himself out to the Crusnik in hope of rewards.

Dumbledore looked sadly at the two figures rotating in the basin. It may already have been too late.

XxXxX

The Imperial Secret Council was the most powerful institution in the Empire. They were responsible for much of Imperial policy, for almost all the Empire's well-being. When direct methods failed, they were there, acting in the shadows, invisible, omniscient, invulnerable.

They were currently arguing over who would go to England.

"Pick a number between 1 and 10," Baybars said, exasperated.

"Pi," Mirka smirked.

"e," Seth smirked back.

"It was three," Baybars retorted. "Mirka wins."

"Best out of three hundred!"

"My empress!"

Mirka giggled. "We both go!"

"What happens to this Empire of ours, then? What if Cain chooses to return? Someone must be my voice here."

"Let Ion do it! Or Esther!"

Seth sighed. "Fine. I trust them."

"More than you trust me?"

"You're the head of my Imperial Secret Council, Mirka. What are you trying to imply?"

"My Empress, the wizards do not trust us. This could be a ploy. If that is the case-"

"I will be there to sacrifice myself so that milady can return home with maximum ease."

"You think I cannot take care of myself?"

"Any delay can be fatal for the Empire, My Empress!"

"Do you not trust in our millennium of work, Mirka, or is it the wizards that frighten you?"

"It is the wizards. They are intolerant, and do not wish to learn to be so otherwise. I fear that you will end up provoking their fear and hatred, and we will have another magical war upon us like the one that destroyed us a millennium ago."

Seth smiled. "Silly, if I die Abel is more than qualified. You surely didn't think he sat here on this council for centuries if I thought he was incapable!"

"What if Abel loses the claim? If Cain comes to power? What then?"

Seth swallowed, forcing herself to meet Mirka's eyes. "Then there will be war, and the vampires will rule a new regime. Is that so terrible for our people?"

"The humans?"

"You do not understand Cain like I do. He will only forcefully subjugate those who deny him. Those who accede to his rule- as I know the citizens of the Empire of the Night will, due to his exalted bloodline- will be treated to a new paradise on Earth."

"And you're willing to risk that," someone whispered.

"If we fail and Lilith fails, then that is the best we can hope for a dying race," Seth said. "I believe it is time to explain to everyone her real significance to the Empire."

XxXxX

Voldemort was sick and tired of waiting. Unfortunately, due to his rather upsetting physical condition, most of his viable plans involved plenty of waiting.

"Wormtail," he hissed. Nagini bobbed her head nervously, sensing a dangerous mood shift in her master.

"Y-yes, milord?"

"What about that Nightlord?"

"I have contacted Malfoy. He felt the Mark burn. We have a deal. And soon, you will have the ingredients you need for your new body, milord."

"…Shut up. There is no need to remind me that John Potter is not the Chosen One."

"Yes, milord."

"Pervert."

"Excuse me?" Did Wormtail deign to sound upset at his master? Voldemort almost chuckled.

"Leave me, before I rip your useless head off and feed it to Nagini here."

Wormtail scuttled out as swiftly as possible. Voldemort collapsed back into his chair, wishing everything were done for, already.

As if on cue, a light, tinkly music began filtering through the walls.

"Wormtail!"

Wormtail scuttled in again.

"That- that wasn't me, milord. It seems those two vampires, the ones that allied themselves to us- the girly one is playing the piano. He spent all day fixing it up."

"Then tell him to, by all means, continue," Voldemort snarled. "Only with a different tune. This one ill suits my tastes."

"Bu-bu-bu-bu-but, milord!" Wormtail almost wailed. "They are guests! I can't simply go in there and tell him to stop! He'd tear my head off!"

"Then remind him whose house he resides in, fool." Voldemort turned away from his blubbering servant.

A creak at the door announced the presence of one of their guests. "We bring you a message from our master," the brown haired one said smoothly. Voldemort slid his wand from its holster in his sleeve.

"Speak."

XxXxX

Sorry for not updating. I love this fic, just not enough. Or something.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I felt kinda crappy in lecture today, probably from reading pretty much the entire Dresden Files in three days, and half the school's up in arms over the recent rioting (stupid UCSD, why did you have to do that?)… so here it is.

Disclaimer: I do not own. YOU WILL NOT SUE.

XxXxX

Chapter 4: Invictus

XxXxX

_Fail. _

_Pass. _

_Fail. _

_Ugh… can't read her handwriting. Fail. _

_I like her last name. Pass. _

_Let's see… pattern. Pass fail fail, pass fail fail. _

_Ms. Granger's… pass. _

_Malfoy's… I probably shouldn't have influenced him to say that about the Empire, but I did need someone to speak up. Also, his name is stupid. Pass. I'll fail him next time if he doesn't stop writing stupid things, though. _

_Recipe for Danish muffins…'nice recipe, don't do it again'… pass. _

_Yes I am reading this, Mr. Finnegan. Fail. _

_Pass. _

_Fail. _

_Fail. _

_Pass… _

Someone knocked on Abel's door. He looked up. "I was grading, dolt!"

"I have cookies!"

"I haven't liked honey cinnamon since the sixth century!"

"…how'd you know it was me?"

"What are you up to now, Professor Nightlord- or should I call you Cain?" Abel put the stupid quill down and slowly slid a knife from where he had fastened it under the desk. "Please, come in."

The door opened, and Cain walked in. "I can't believe you and Seth are still going to do this," he groused. "What are you two thinking?"

"We want Lilith back. Besides, Seth's special, and you know it. That is why she determines policy, not us. And I'm not interested in anything you say. Not after your betrayal at the hands of that religious nut two millennia ago. Go away."

Cain pulled out a plate of cookies and began eating.

"You really had cookies?" Abel deadpanned. He made no move to take one when Cain offered the plate.

"Have you mind controlled anyone yet?" Cain mocked. He set the plate down. "I'm here for the same reason you are, dearest brother, even if you and Seth can't see that."

"Big words from the one who killed Lilith."

"What happened to the nice guy I remembered two millennia ago?"

Abel stared at the plate of cookies. Well, they wouldn't be called cookies by modern standards, and they hadn't been called cookies back then. "You killed him, Cain, when you betrayed us all."

Cain was looking at him. He could feel it.

"Brother-"

"Leave. And take the cookies with you. I won't break bread with an enemy."

"Abel, no one's observed that custom here for at least two hundred years. I think. I lost track a couple decades ago. Or was that centuries? It doesn't matter." Cain rose with languid grace and left. Just before the door closed, he paused. "I'm not your enemy, Abel. Join me."

Cain was gone before Abel realized that the cookies were still on his desk. Wordlessly, he slid them into the trash.

"If you're so right, Cain, then why are you dying?"

XxXxX

_Eliza Sahl looked down at her three children. "It doesn't matter what the humans think," she scolded Abel. "They are still our vassals, and therefore under our protection and deserve better." _

_Lilith gave him a quiet look, and Abel looked away in embarrassment, scowling. _

"_See, this is why Cain is currently closer to the position of First." Cain sent Abel an apologetic and slightly smug smirk; Abel couldn't blame him. As First, he would be perhaps the second most powerful being in the world. But Lilith wouldn't choose him, Abel knew. _

_Eliza sighed. "Remember, Abel, what your prerogatives as my son and as a prince of your race are. You three will one day inherit my Empire as I inherited her from my mother, and rule over the most powerful force to have ever lived - over our people, the Methuselah, and the humans." _

"_I hate humans."  
_

"_You will have to amend your thoughts, Abel. Look outside; it is the dawn of humanity." _

_Eliza looked down at him, rubbing her heavily pregnant belly. "My next child will be a daughter; Lilith's heir. You must take care of her after I am gone. Even we do not live forever." _

"_This Empire exists because of a balance, Abel. Some day, you must realize that." _

Abel watched silvery memories drain away. "I will do what must be done."

The water in the basin smoothed over; he looked at his younger sister, the ceiling of the Imperial Conclave laid out in all its glory high above her. "Of course you will, brother. You always do. What do you think?"

"I think Mirka should come, too," Abel admitted. "Something about this community sets me on edge. It is unwise to pay attention solely to the enemy in front of you."

"You never know who might be hiding in the shadows," Seth continued. "And if you but pay attention to the shadows, the enemy in front will kill you. I know, brother. It was one of Mother's favorite sayings."

"How is Lilith?" Abel asked abruptly.

"No change," Seth said, shaking her head. "Everything depends on this, then."

"So may it be," Abel finished.

"In accordance with our will… First."

"That title has been meaningless for a thousand years, Seth."

Seth stuck her tongue out at him and he let the image fade away, and sighed, hoping no one still remembered the old forms of magic. With Cain's apparent involvement, this was becoming more and more unpredictable.

The future of the Empire depended on whether or not he and Seth could succeed. _I see what you mean now, Mother, about this being the age of humans. _

XxXxX

John Potter stared at the book.

"Draco was acting so weirdly in class today," Ron babbled, waving his arms around for effect. "He sounded like you, or something."

"Think of it as an out of character moment," Lavender said primly. "The professor probably got to him or something."

"Yeah," Harry agreed sarcastically under his breath. "I don't know why he even spoke up. Hermione, please share that book with us?"

Hermione sniffed, then relented. "Only if you return it to me before the next class starts."

"What, did Professor Sahl give this to you with his own hands?" Ron joked, coming over and looming over them like a giant redheaded scarecrow.

Hermione's ears turned pink. "Yes, yes he did," she snapped, crossing her arms. "He was kind enough to lend me that copy, thank you very much."

Ron grabbed it and opened the cover. "Ugh, this is boring."

"You haven't even started reading yet! And hand it back-he'll be angry if he finds out you stole school property!"

"She's right, Ron," John said, sliding in and smiling at Hermione in a way that made Hari want to punch his face in.

Hermione sighed. "I'll write up a summary, then. Honestly, can't you two do your own work, for once?"

"Hermione, we don't even have books! Flourish and Blott's doesn't carry this one, and it's not as if I can just put an ad in the Daily Prophet!" Ron whined, waving about the newspaper in question.

"You know, you should let them do their own work, not let them boss you around like that-" Taking a good look at the paper, Harry froze. "Wait. Isn't that the edition Professor Sahl was waving around today?"

Hermione grabbed it and smoothed the wrinkles out, turning to page sixteen.

"Blimey, Professor Sahl was right!" Ron said, pointing to a picture of a shadowed, motionless figure in an enormous hat surrounded by butterflies, birds, and what looked to be several dozen large Venomous Tentaculas.

John gaped. "That's an empress? She doesn't look special to me."

_Except for the fact she's been around for over a millennium,_ Hari thought.

"I thought she'd be a bit more imposing," Hermione said, scanning the article. "But even vampires don't live forever. It says here she's ruled for over a thousand years, which is apparently a long time, even for a vam-Methuselah. She's probably a little old lady behind that veil."

"Eeew," Ron said disgustedly. "That's gross."

"How come we've never heard of this Empire before?" a boy Hari vaguely remembered as being named Thomas asked. "It sounds like something that would come up."

"There've only been rumors," Ron said, hushing his voice conspiratorially. "And the Ministry of Magic didn't want to believe them."

"But an entire empire?"

Hermione frowned. "The Middle East doesn't really have much contact with most of the rest of the magical world."

Hari had seen the Empress before, on one of her occasional visits in her beloved city. "That's not important," he said, pointing. "Look, it says here no one's ever seen her face before."

He then turned back to his Potions essay as the rest of them, Hermione included, moved off to excitedly argue what could possibly lie under the Empress's veil. "Idiots chasing butterflies."

XxXxX

_Four-year-old Harry Potter looked up, tears streaking down his face. Someone tripped over his legs and cursed roughly; he curled up into a ball. _

"_Hello, child," a woman with curly black hair said, bending down. "What are you doing here?" _

"_Uncle told me that mommy told him she didn't want me and he left me here," he sobbed. _

_The woman had given a hug. "Well, I've always wanted a child of my own. Do you want to be my son?" _

_Harry Potter had given her a tremendous smile and followed her back to her hotel. As he ate, she had asked him questions, asked him to spell his name for her (which he had embarrassingly misspelled, thus causing his name on Shahrizar's report to be changed from Harry to Hari, an incident which never failed to garner whoops of laughter whenever he brought it up, to his annoyance), and asked if he would do her a favor. _

_When he said yes, she'd taken him to an ugly grey building, complete with carved gargoyles and unfriendly guards. "I want you to act like your mum's missing," she'd instructed. "Don't let them search for me until I come back, okay?" _

"_Yes, mother," he'd replied politely, promptly walking up to the nearest unfriendly guard and throwing a screaming fit. By the time they'd gotten him calmed down and coherent past "MUMMY!" Shahrizar had returned, an odd metal tube tucked under her arm. She'd picked him up, apologized for losing him while going to use the bathroom, and they'd left before anyone realized the package she'd been carrying wasn't hers. _

_Their journey back to the Empire had been by night, Shahrizar clutching him tightly as she ran and leaped past kilometers of landscape and apparently insurmountable obstacles whenever they couldn't hitch a ride. _

_Hari's first sight of Byzantium had been during one such night. They'd crested a rise in the desert apparently in the middle of nowhere, there had been an odd tingling feeling he'd since learned to associate with magic, and he'd seen the city of crystal spires illuminated by the light of its anti-sunlight barrier as if glowing from within. "Mother?" he'd asked sleepily. _

"_Yes, Hari," Shahrizar had whispered. "This is Byzantium, the City of Eternal Twilight and your new home." _

_A few minutes later they'd been met at the barrier by a group of green and red-clad Janissaries who looked marginally friendlier than the unfriendly guards from the bank, and he'd never seen Shahrizar again. She'd gone to report to the Empress, and he'd gone to a new life in the Empire with her blessings and recommendation. _

Hari frowned, staring at the ceiling of his four-poster. This place was making him maudlin.

XxXxX

Hari sat through Transfiguration without really listening to the teacher speak and wondered why the wizards had not developed technomancy here. _Yes, I think I will definitely be apprenticed to a technomancer of some sort_, he mused. The wizards here had no idea what they were missing out on.

He looked down at his parchment (They still used _parchment_, for Empress' sake!) and realized he'd been drawing a view of the legendary Silver Canal separating the Methuselah nobles from their human counterparts. The symbol of the Empire was in the bottom right corner, emblazoned on the guard posts of a magnificent, ornate bridge; he scratched it out.

Hermione poked him, and with a start he realized that the class was beginning to separate into pairs for practice. He frowned, concentrated on visualizing his magical core, and began a chant of transforming.

Hermione sent him an odd look and he realized he was supposed to be using his wand. Oops. "It was something I read in an old book and thought would be interesting to try," he temporized. "I don't remember what book, and I don't think the writer knew what he was writing about."

Hermione shrugged, the fascinated look never leaving her face. "Wandless magic," she breathed. Hari let her dream on, as wandless magic was harder and took a much harder toll on the body, one of the reasons why humans with magical ability were treasured by the Empire.

Using a wand seemed like cheating, somehow. Hari put all his effort into learning as much as he could about this wand magic. Maybe he could get Hermione to teach him more, or take her knowledge back to the Empire, as well.

His frog croaked at him derisively. He mentally flipped it off and tried again. There was a loud BANG as it exploded, splashing gore over everyone.

"_Scourgify_," Hermione said firmly as Professor McGonagall wordlessly motioned Lavender to hand him a newt.

Hari frowned and tried to remember everything he'd been taught about magic manipulation. This wasn't working. He scowled, not really thinking other than wishing the newt would turn into a music box, and muttered the spell again.

The newt transformed into a heavy wooden music box with the crest of the Empire carved on it. As everyone leaned over to look, Hari jolted the table, causing the box to fall off, and stepped on it.

"Oops."

XxXxX

"Have you learned anything?" Abel asked quietly, flipping through an old text Hari had never seen before.

"Wand usage," Hari muttered, still remembering the fiasco in Transfiguration. "I couldn't find out anything about the composition of the wands themselves, only that they seem to act to draw out and mediate the wizard's magic by themselves. That would put them at a severe disadvantage against the Empire's wizards."

Abel frowned at his own wand. "No wonder I couldn't get this damned thing to work," he muttered under his breath. "What do you think your options at this point are?"

Hari frowned. "My brother is an ass," he began, "but I will see this mission through to the end and learn everything I can about this world for the good of the Empire."

Abel nodded. "Good. Write up your report, then. We'll be turning them in before the Empress visits, so she can expect what's awaiting her here."

Hari nodded.

XxXxX

In his office at the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge frowned as the government effectively ran around in circles trying to prepare for the meeting with the new Empress.

"Vampires," he scoffed. Behind him, Dolores Umbridge tittered lightly. Good woman; he liked her sense of propriety. "They've been acting up ever since the crusade against the Crusniks."

"Minister," Lucius Malfoy said, looking up at him. "Might I suggest an alternative to this… fiasco?"

"Speak," he offered desperately.

"We need not honor this visit," Malfoy suggested smoothly. "We need no concessions from this Empire, and they could not possibly have anything we want."

"This would be an international disaster!" Amelia Bones barked. "Our credibility in the eyes of the Wizarding World would sink so low-"

"Not if we play our cards right," Umbridge pointed out, and Fudge made note to promote the woman in the near future.

"I refuse to be part of this," Bones snarled, storming out. A few followed, but the rest stayed, as uncertain as they looked.

"Their Empire cannot be as great as they make it out to be," Malfoy explained. "Nor their entourage as large as they could wish."

"We could keep them from the Wizarding community at large," Fudge said. "Maybe they'll be discouraged an return home."

"And if they make a fuss, we can… dispose… of them," Umbridge suggested, her eyes twinkling at the conspiracy. "No one will notice the loss, and the Wizarding world might just congratulate us for being rid of an enemy."

"Agreed. The fewer vampires there are in the world, the better off we'll all be," a redheaded wizard who reminded Fudge uncomfortably of the crazily eccentric Weasley put in.

"Should we not have a backup plan, in case those fail?" another nervous-looking witch put in.

"How could they?" Malfoy asked rhetorically. "All elements are on our side."

XxXxX

The thing Voldemort hated most about commanding his Death Eaters was the wait. He sent them out, waited for their information, then waited for them to respond to his information as well, waited for the world to notice, waited for his next move.

"Check," the black-haired vampire said, sliding a black pawn into place. Voldemort frowned; the vampire was definitely toying with him.

"Checkmate," he said, playing the trap he'd begun several turns ago instead of the move the vampire had been expecting him to use and was rewarded with a flash of surprise before the vampire blanked his expression again. "Has Contra Mundi anything to report, Panzermeister?"

"None, I'm afraid," Isaak said, vanishing back into the shadows. "This was a good game, My Lord."

Voldemort scowled down at the board and began planning his next step. He had no idea why the vampire insisted on these games every day, and why the damn creature insisted on losing every one of them. "Lucius."

The Death Eater crept up, kneeling.

"I wish to induct your son Draco into our ranks soon."

XxXxX

AN: Please don't kill me over Shahrizar. I liked her too much for her in the canon to die in this fic, one scene wonder that she was. Poor girl. Besides, she'd be the type of person to pick up someone to help her, then feel guilty about leaving them behind and let them tag along.


End file.
